Going for Broke
by Hecate's Wrath
Summary: Artie and Tina make up, break up, and make up again. Chapter 12: High school isn't different, but it's a little more bearable now. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

AN: Here's the deal: It's looking to be about ten chapters, ten super short chapters, about Artie and Tina and stuff. They should be posted biweekly, and the next chapter should be up Wednesday.

* * *

The note is written in blocky letters, sentences of ALL CAPS like she's always shouting, and Artie finds it strange, because Tina never yells, never even raises her voice (which Artie's mom says are _not_ the same thing, but he really doesn't see the difference). He also finds it a little bit alarming, like he's constantly being _shouted_ at, whenever she writes him notes, whether they be to remind him that they are going to hang out at his house with Mercedes and maybe Kurt after school (which Artie is still on the fence about—he likes Mercedes and Tina fine, but Kurt unsettles him), or to ask his opinion on Mr. Schuester's most recent choice for Regionals (he has loved, loves, and always will love the Beatles, even when Rachel tries to make "Let it Be" sound like something from Broadway).

Today he's staring down at the creased piece of paper that screams "ARE WE GOING TO EAT LUNCH TOGETHER TODAY?" and Artie tries not to wince, because, hell, he feels like he's being _shouted_ and he just—doesn't like being yelled at.

Her writing is blocky, neat, and precise, and it's dark, like she pressed the pencil into the paper so hard, even if you scrubbed away the granite with an eraser, there would be little dents in the paper from her screaming words.

Tina's kind of like that, in a way, inasmuch as he's never heard her yell—usually when she's upset, she gets very quiet and kind of—pulls into herself. She goes to a place even Artie can't reach her, but she's got this personality that kind of leaves marks on your soul. Like lead, pressed to paper so hard the pencil breaks and you can erase all you want, but there's still a little dent there, a little Tina dent.

He scrawls a reply (yes, of course, when do we _not_ eat lunch together?) and sends it back and watches as she composes a reply, the tip of her tongue sticking out as she presses her pencil into the paper to write back in ALL CAPS.

It's so unlike Tina—ALL CAPS feels more like Rachel—like someone confident and sure about what exactly they're writing, but Artie's seen Rachel's handwriting and it's all girly and loopy and stuff, something found on the back of a fifth-grade Valentine, "I love you," decorated with hearts and smiley faces—but that doesn't feel like Tina, either.

Her long dark hair—spotted with chunks of blue—falls over her shoulder as she finishes her reply and sends it back.

Artie's own handwriting is a scrawl—messy and untidy and kind of like word vomit, all over the paper, kind of like a mess of words, all tangled up together you have to pick apart one by one and maybe Artie's a little bit like that himself—just a mess of words and feelings you have to pick apart to get to really know him.

Tina really knows him—she took the time to pick everything apart and figure each little piece out, like he was a puzzle, or a challenge, and he marvels at how—how _good _she is at just—at just _getting_ him.

They're going to lunch together after that class and Artie mentions something to Tina about her writing and how it doesn't fit her and Tina shrugs.

"When I w-was in third grade, a k-kid named Garrett m-made fun of m-me because he s-s-said my lowercase l-looked funny. I-I was terrified o-of being made fun of again, so I st-started writing in all uppercase a-and I guess i-it just k-kinda…st-stuck. L-like the st-stutter."

It's such a simple, Tina-like answer it catches Artie off-guard a bit before he remembers that she changed her speech patterns for years to push people away, and he feels a twinge of regret and anger and maybe sadness before he pushes it away and nods.

"Okay then," he says, and doesn't mind so much reading her notes anymore. It doesn't feel like he's being screamed at as much; it feels more like something he can relate to again.

* * *

What does your handwriting look like, and does it fit your personality?


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Some of us write like Tina and some write with a print/cursive mix (prusive?). Some have writing that changes depending on our mood and why we're writing. Some of us feel our writing describes us perfectly and some aren't really sure. I am honored that I have such a lovely group of reviewers.

My handwriting looks messy, but is actually quite legible. It describes me well, I think.

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.

* * *

They're sitting at lunch talking about solos for Regionals and someone says something about Rachel getting the lead in "Let it Be" and Artie knows for a fact Tina's sweet soprano would be better suited to that song—Rachel is big and brash and brass bands—she is Broadway, and not the Beatles, not at all, because "Let it Be" is a simple song, a sweet song—a _Tina_ song.

And he says something, because, hell, part of the fun of Glee is getting to make fun of big, brash Rachel and Tina blushes at the compliment.

Mercedes agrees with Artie, but Tina shrugs. "Rachel's the st-star," she says. "She's the s-s-selfish one. I-I mean, I-I'd love to s-sing it, b-but Schue has t-to give the song to R-Rachel, or, well—"

"Diva'll quit," Kurt says bluntly and the table nods glumly and Artie thinks that it's a little bit funny that Kurt calls Rachel "diva" when he's the closest thing to a diva Glee club has, Rachel aside.

"Again," Mercedes adds, and everyone chuckles, because Rachel tends to quit Glee at least once a month. As Artie has said before, the more she storms out, the less dramatic it tends to be.

And then he wonders about Tina's comment—that Rachel is the selfish one, and he wonders if that's how they're defined—by the outstanding personality traits or defining physical features that add to the entire personality and representation of the group. If Rachel is the selfish one, then Finn is the sweet one, and Puck is the badass one, and Quinn is the pregnant one.

Santana is the bitchy one, or maybe the hateful one, because really, whatever crawled up her butt and died must have killed her soul, too, or maybe she just never had one to begin with. As the newly instated head Cheerio, she makes somebody cry at least once a week and usually more which, in Artie's opinion, is just plain rude and kind of unnecessary. Plus, it's Sue's job, which makes Santana kind of a miniature Sue which is just kind of scary and more than a little bit disturbing.

And Brittany is definitely the dumb one, because seriously, the girl has maybe ten brain cells in full working order on a good day, and that's being optimistic. Matt and Mike are both the sidekicks—the afterthoughts, the ones nobody really remembers until you count on your fingers and only get ten and then remember—aw, crap, Other Asian and the other black kid. Which kind of makes Artie feel bad, because hey, he's in a wheelchair, it's not like everyone remembers him, but, well, what can he say?

Kurt is kind of torn between two—he's either the gay one or the snarky one, and Artie can't tell which one fits him better. Maybe the snarky gay one, because it kind of seems like all gay guys must be snarky or clever or _something_ to give them a redeeming quality because they happen to play for the home team, or maybe it's just social taboos and society speaking. And crap, now he sounds kind of like Rachel which is really alarming.

Mercedes is the bitchy-but-likable one, which makes her different from Santana because Mercedes only makes people cry when there's a good reason. Or maybe she's the gangster one, because really, she threatens to cut people or take people to the carpet or shank people (Artie's still not _entirely_ sure what this one means, but he's kind of scared to ask) on a daily basis.

And that leaves him and Tina. Tina is the one in the background, the faded one, the one everyone knows is there, but who doesn't really do much, because she's not brass bands and brash like Rachel, and she's not soulful and loud like Mercedes and she doesn't wear a Cheerios uniform, so there's no really defining trait that makes her stick out. Maybe she's the awkward one, with her stutter and her black clothes and the blue in her hair. The wannabe rebel. Artie's not sure.

And he's not sure what he is, either, whether he's the cripple or the musician (because he and Puck are the only ones who can really play an instrument, with the exception of Rachel, but Rachel can pretty much do anything, except make friends, which is kind of sad). Probably the cripple, because if Quinn's baby defines her, then his chair certainly defines him, and now he wonders how the cripple and the awkward wannabe rebel fit together, because in his mind, they don't really mesh, not at all.

They're going to their next class and Artie looks up at Tina and says "If Rachel is the selfish one, which one am I?"

And Tina just smiles and shrugs. "I d-dunno. You're my friend, but I-I don't know th-that that counts."

For some reason, the awkward wannabe rebel's friend sounds better to him than the cripple, and he smiles back.

* * *

Which one are you, in your group of friends?


	3. Chapter 3

AN: We are the nerds, the quiet ones, the bitchy ones—I love that you all are all honest and still such wonderful reviewers. You have beautiful insight; thanks for sharing it with me :)

I am the goofy, clumsy, needy one, the resident idiot who is scared to be alone.

I said they'd be biweekly--your next update should be Wednesday. I am hoping to upload chapter 5 on Saturday afternoon, but if not, look for it Sunday.

Sorry for the ridiculous AN, but, for the record, "Blackbird" is my most favorite Beatles' song in, oh, ever, and I just hear Tina singing it, for some reason.

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.

* * *

Rachel and Finn have just finished belting "Let it Be" and it was beautiful—really, it was—but Artie still thinks Tina's calm and kind of gentle voice would be better suited to the song, because it's just kind of _that kind of _song, and now that he's had that thought, he can't get it out of his head. He briefly considers telling Mr. Schue, but that won't really make a difference, so he wheels himself out instead.

Tina comes over and they're sitting in his room and he's kind of strumming his guitar and then all of a sudden he's plucking out the chords to "Blackbird" and Tina's kind of humming along and then singing along and the world kind of tilts on its axis. Artie's not sure what this means, but he hopes (and is pretty sure) it's kind of good, and he grins as the last note fades away.

It feels nice, to share this, to share music and glee and just—this, whatever it is, with her, in his room.

He feels the sudden urge to kiss her, but doesn't act on it, partially because he's halfway across the room _and_ in a wheelchair, and partially because he just doesn't. Because that would bring up questions he's not sure he wants the answer to, not just yet.

They sing together again, after school the next day (though this time it's The Fray and "All at Once" and "Look After You" but not "How to Save a Life," because that song is so overplayed), and Tina smiles and Artie's heart does this weird somersault thing that kind of makes him feel funny. He kind of wants to kiss her again, and this time she's close enough—she's sitting on his bed as he sits by the bed and he leans over and she leans in and—well.

Well, it's actually kind of awkward, but not as weird as the first one they shared, and it's a lot more comfortable, because she's kind of moved around and isn't really leaning over him and then they're kind of making out.

Then they really _are_ making out, and she pulls back and makes this half-noise and the world tilts on its axis again and his heart does that weird somersault thing again and he's grinning so hard his cheeks hurt and she blushes and this is kind of what he's been waiting for.

They can't hold hands like couples at school—it just kind of throws off the dynamic, because they tried it once, and he veered sharply to the left and into her legs, and she tripped and fell on him and they caused a traffic jam and it was kind of awkward, but also kind of nice, because then she was sitting in his lap, which he definitely wasn't complaining about, but them some idiotic football player said something about them holding up traffic and she jumped off of him and pushed him to their next class, her cheeks bright red.

Which, yeah, made his heart do that funny somersault thing again.

So, in lieu of holding hands, they just walk—well, Artie rolls—alongside each other and sometimes he'll carry her books for her in his lap, and she always blushes, which is cute, in Artie's opinion.

But it's nice to have it out in the open, nice to be—well, _together_ and he wonders if maybe this has redefined their roles in Glee club.

Is he the awkward wannabe rebel's boyfriend now? Or still the cripple?

Artie decides he doesn't much care either way, because Tina just made that little half-noise again and his mind is on other things now.

Like, you know, Tina. And her noises. And how she's his _girlfriend_ and he gets to make her make those noises any time he wants to.

He'd pop a wheelie in celebration, but he's otherwise engaged.

* * *

How old were you when you got your first kiss?


	4. Chapter 4

AN: A lot of us got our first kisses in elementary school; some of us are still waiting, and some of us were high schoolers, or older.

I was fifteen. His name was Jake, and I wish I would have waited.

Short chapter today, but a longish one on Saturday/Sunday, promise!

A couple of people have been asking why Tina still stutters. There's a method to my madness, I promise.

Please keep in mind the time between this chapter and last is a month or two. Okay. Great. Thanks!

* * *

They're sitting in his room after another jam-and-makeout session the day before they go to Regionals and Artie is trying not to think about Vocal Adrenaline, or the fact that he is _in a wheelchair_ and about to _perform in a show choir_.

They're doing "Proud Mary" which kind of makes him feel better a little bit, because it uses his chair to an advantage, and, for once, he's not in the way, and the choreography isn't "so what are we going to do with Artie/Wheelchair Kid" (Puck still calls him Wheelchair Kid, even though Artie knows Puck knows his real name. Maybe it has something to do with Puck's reputation as "badass"—Artie doesn't know or really even care, because Puck doesn't slushy facial him anymore, so he'll take a degrading nickname as a thankyou. And, really, "Wheelchair Kid" isn't all that _degrading_—he _is_ in a wheelchair, after all, and it could be worse.)

Tina is kind of nervous, because it's still a tossup between "True Colors" and "Let it Be" and Schue isn't telling them which until tomorrow morning.

She's made Artie play "Proud Mary" and "True Colors" each a million times so she can practice and his fingers are tired.

_Really_ tired.

She frowns when he flat-out refuses to play "True Colors" again, because seriously, his fingers are _tired_ and Phil Collins is fine, but not after thirty thousand repeats.

"Please?"

"No."

"But… Please?"

"No."

"Please? I love you." And she says it jokingly at first (he thinks) and then turns bright red and he thinks it might have been an accident, and he kind of freezes and looks at her.

"You—what?!"

"I-I—nevermind."

"Did you just say—?"

"I-I-I slipped," she stutters, and he thinks it might be real now, that she's so shook up that maybe her stutter is _actually_ a stutter and not a shield to hide behind.

He waits a minute, his head spinning.

"Did you mean it?" he asks quietly and she kind of bites her lip and shrugs and that's not—exactly what he's looking for.

He's not sure _what _he's looking for, though. For her to smile and blush and nod? Or walk out, an obvious no?

So he ignores it, sweeps it under the rug, and plays the opening chords to "True Colors" again and she tries to sing, but is sharp, and gives it up as a loss.

"I-I-I should g-g-g-go," she says, and walks out.

Artie lays awake for a long time that night, thinking about three little words, and if maybe the way his heart somersaults when he sees her is just another way of saying that.

(In the morning, Schue tells them they're doing "Let it Be," which is a good thing.)

* * *

Which Glee character do you most identify with?


	5. Chapter 5

AN: A lot of us identify with Tina, with some Arties and Emmas and Brittanys thrown in for good measure. I am caught somewhere between Quinn and Rachel.

A shorter than usual chapter today, but the next one will be up tomorrow or Tuesday, so… enjoy!

And I apologize for the extremely late review replies. I was without internet for a ridiculous period of time. I promise to be more prompt in the future!!

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.

* * *

They don't sit next to each other on the bus.

Mercedes and Tina sit together, behind Puck and Quinn, and Kurt sits next to Artie, which is fine, because they're sitting behind Rachel, and they make fun of her quietly. Artie tells himself it doesn't hurt so much, but really it does.

Taking second at Regionals is fine. Schue is proud of them, and Rachel bursts into hysterical tears (not happy ones), but she'll get over it, and they get to keep Glee club, which is really the only thing they were fighting for. Of course, that second place trophy is going to look amazing in the choir room, but the real reward is getting to keep their band of misfits together.

That kind of makes him feel like Robin Hood—or rather, one of the Merry Men, because Finn would be Robin Hood.

He wonders who Little John would be. Pre-Babygate, it was a no-brainer, because, hello, Puck and Finn were best friends. Post-Babygate, Artie hasn't really seen him with anyone but Rachel and Rachel doesn't make a very good Little John (and she's kind of a louder and more obnoxious Lady Marian). And Little John didn't ever sleep with Robin Hood's girl-woman-lady—whatever, and there wasn't really a backup in the Disney version, which is the only one Artie's ever seen, so Finn's best friend remains a mystery.

The dilemma of the Little John to Finn's Robin Hood is enough to distract him from the fact that Tina and Mercedes are sitting together again and _somehow_ Brittany's been shuffled back to sit by him.

Santana is probably being extra-bitchy today (an accomplishment, for her, because Santana on a good day is over-the-top bitchy. Maybe she's on her period? But that's just kind of gross to think about, because, well, it's Santana and it's a _period_ and, yeah, girls get them, but still. Artie wonders if maybe he should offer her some Midol, but retracts that thought pretty quickly, because he likes his head where it is, thanks).

So he's sitting next to Brittany and seriously, he's beginning to think she doesn't have two brain cells to rub together. At all.

He survives, though, and goes home and tries not to think about Tina, but ends up thinking about her _anyway_ and he wonders if maybe they aren't in a relationship anymore, and thinks about texting her, but that just seems rude and awkward, so he doesn't.

He's getting ready to go to bed when his phone chirps and it's Tina and she says _can we talk_? And so Artie says _yes_ and she tells him she's sorry and how she's just kind of scared, because she's never done a relationship before and she _did_ mean it, but it just felt awkward and rushed and Artie feels so much better.

She comes over Sunday and they sing "Blackbird" and then a silly song about love. Then two silly songs about love, because they're silly in love and every love song they've ever heard feels like it's talking right to them, directly to their souls.

He says it back, and he means it.

* * *

What's your favorite love song?


	6. Chapter 6

AN: Our music tastes are diverse; all are wonderful. I think it's the way we feel when we listen to the song, more than the song itself.

My favorite love song is either "Hey Love," by Jason Mraz, or "Hey Soul Sister," by Train.

I know I said Tuesday, but I was practically on my death bed yesterday afternoon and some of this morning. I'm feeling betterish, so cross your fingers it lasts! Sorry it's late. Next update will be tomorrow or Friday.

Oh, and the stutter question is answered in this chapter.

* * *

His mom makes them mac and cheese, from a box, and bakes a cake and decorates it in squiggly green words that say "Congratulations, New Directions!" and Artie and Tina eat a piece and promise to take the rest of it in to everyone on Monday.

Then they go to his room, and Artie is grinning, because Tina's teeth are green from the frosting, and she looks kind of funny with green teeth, and also kind of gross, but not in a bad way.

They're halfway through a rendition of a Plain White T's song when Tina stops and looks over at him. "What do y-you want t-t-to be?"

Artie looks at her kind of strangely, because he's not really sure what she means, and then she makes an impatient noise and clarifies. "When you…g-g-grow up."

Artie strums his guitar thoughtfully. "Um… I don't know, really," because he doesn't. He'd love to be a musician, but he's realistic, and knows that the only person who has even a little bit of a shot at making it out of Lima and into the spotlight is Rachel.

Oh, sure, the rest of them have a fairly decent shot at getting out of Lima (except maybe Puck and Quinn, because keeping that baby is pretty much a life sentence), but as far as making it in the big time, as a _star_, the only one who has even a little bit of a shot at that is Rachel, and only because she's so batshit. "When I was little, I wanted to be a power ranger, and then I wanted to be a garbage man, because I liked the truck."

Tina laughs and Artie grins. "What about you?" he asks and she shrugs.

"I d-dunno for the future, but wh-when I was little, I-I wanted t-t-to be a b-b-ballerina. I liked th-their shoes and I-I thought the tutus were c-cool."

Artie smiles, because Rebel Wannabe Tina doesn't really mesh with Ballerina Tina, but maybe she was different before he knew her.

"Why do you still do it?"

Tina looks up at him from behind her bangs. "Do what?"

"The stutter. I mean, we both know…"

Tina sighs. "I-It's easier, and k-kind of a habit, b-by now. I-I guess you d-do something long enough, a-and it just k-kind of… st-sticks with you."

Artie guesses that answer is okay, and he smiles, because he's not angry over the lies, not anymore, because they're in the past, and he's kind of in love with this girl, and it's not like she doesn't have demons of her own, so he smiles and plucks out the opening chords to "Blackbird," because he's kind of in love with Tina singing that song.

"A ballerina, huh?" he says as she's getting ready to go, and she looks up and smiles and his heart somersaults. "I think you'll be great at whatever you do, Tina C."

She smiles wider and kisses him on the cheek before waving over her shoulder as she runs out to the car.

Maybe he'll be a music teacher, like Mr. Schue, and coach a Glee club, and go for the irony of it all. Maybe he'll just be Wannabe Rebel Tina's cripple boyfriend and sit at home and play music all day long for the hell of it.

* * *

What did you want to be when you were little?


	7. Chapter 7

AN: Our career choices are interesting; some of us are future fashion designers, some photographers, some nutritionists, teachers, librarians—our variety is lovely.

I wanted to be a nun from the Sound of Music, because I thought their outfits were cool. Now I want to be a wife, a mother, a social worker, and maybe drive the ice cream truck on the side.

Also, thanks to all my lovely reviewers—we hit the big 50 last chapter!! I'm so, so honored that so many people have enjoyed this story enough to leave a few kind words here and there. This update is your thank you!!

* * *

Hindsight is 20/20 is something his mom always says, and usually it's either in conjunction with something silly or the Accident (he capitalizes it, because it has significance, definition—it was a life-changer), like, sometimes his dad will get this look on his face when Artie mentions something about the handicapable bus or something and will say something about "if only" and his mom will usually drop whatever she's holding and then say "well, hindsight is 20/20" and then the rest of the evening will be kind of tense and awkward.

He knows his mom stills feels guilty, but it's not like she could have done anything—it was completely the other driver's fault, but she still feels guilty, and Artie guesses he can't really blame her, because it's kind of something she has to come to terms with on her own.

But in this case, hindsight is 20/20 applies perfectly, because it was so, so easy to get all caught up in "I love you" and goofy, silly love songs and cloud nine and forever after, but real life kind of snuck up on them and now Artie is staring at his phone and wondering if maybe he's single again.

Maybe it wasn't such a good idea after all, to dive headfirst into this love without any flotation device—maybe giving up and giving in and forgetting about everything else wasn't the best decision, and maybe it was too easy.

He plugs his iPod in and clicks restlessly through the shuffle, because nothing quite fits this mood he's in, nothing accurately describes the way his skin is crawling, or his fingers are itching, or how he just needs to—_feel_ something, be something, _do_ something, and all he can do is sit here.

Jason Mraz and Jack Johnson are too soothing and Landon Pigg is singing about love in a coffee shop and he just doesn't want to hear it. The Beatles are too happy, even "Eleanor Rigby" and "Blackbird"—especially "Blackbird"—and nothing fits his mood, so he shuts it off and picks up his guitar. Then he puts it back down, because nothing feels right to play, because he's played Glee music so long nothing else comes easily and Glee makes him think of Tina, so he sits in his room and his jaw twitches a little bit and he just ends up feeling sorry for himself.

Then his phone chirps, and it's from Tina, and she says _we need to talk_.

Three hours later, Artie sits in his room and thinks he probably should have seen it coming.

But he's single again, and he vows to give girls up for good (for awhile) and surely no one is worth this much thought and pain and work. Surely.

But then he thinks of Tina's blush and the way his heart did those somersaults, and the world tilting on its axis and, he thinks, maybe she was worth it, and maybe he should have tried harder and maybe he should pick his phone up and try again.

Then he remembers the things she said—things like "not ready" and "not you, me" and "maybe someday" and "friends," and he reconsiders.

Maybe he should just not, and he just doesn't.

(He doesn't go to school the next day, but it has nothing to do with Tina. He's sick. Really.)

* * *

What's your breakup song?


	8. Chapter 8

AN: Some of us listen to sad music, some prefer something upbeat and happy. Some of us want nothing more than a song that has nothing to do with relationships, and some of us want the ones about happily ever after.

My breakup song is "We are Golden" by Mika.

Oh, and I don't really mind Rachel all that much. I think she's funny. She's also a lot of fun to make fun of.

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.

* * *

Artie feels crazy.

There aren't _words _to describe how—how restless he feels. He's not even sure 'restless' is the right word, but Artie kind of feels like he's trying to climb right out of his skin, like some grotesque horror film. He feels cramped, restricted, _caged_, like some wild animal is just rearing to get out, foaming at the mouth and clawing at the bars, for all the good that it'll do. He's never felt more restricted by the chair than he does now, because he figures a good run around the parking lot would cure him of this, but he can't _do_ that, on account of being in a wheelchair and all.

He feels _crazy_.

Every time he sees Tina, he kind of wants to scream, or maybe throw something, or just—_something_, because this passivity and monotony is kind of getting old. Actually, really getting old. It started getting old as soon as it started and Artie is just _tired _of feeling restless and caged and restricted.

And of being on not-speaking-terms with his best friend. Because, okay, if she doesn't want to date him, fine, whatever, but he misses hanging out with Tina and hearing that ridiculous stutter and just—he wants his best friend back, so he wheels up to Tina after Glee practice on Thursday and says "Look, we need to talk."

And she stutters that she has to go, but Artie knows for a fact neither of her parents will be here to pick her up for another thirty minutes, and she won't walk home, because it's April and it's been storming all day.

"I'm not an idiot, Tina," he sighs, wheeling determinedly after her. "You were my best friend for five years—it's not like you're fooling anyone."

And she whirls around quickly and the Rachel-like skirt she's wearing kind of flares out and Artie's heart kind of stutters and she puts her hands on her hips (another Rachel-like thing, which is kind of alarming) and glares down at him with a Rachel-like glare and he kind of feels really uncomfortable, because, hello, Rachel is a creeper and is also crazy and friends don't let friends act like psycho creeper lead singers.

"What?" she asks, and there's so much venom in her voice, Artie wonders if maybe Tina and Rachel, like, switched bodies or something, and then he thinks about _Freaky Friday_ and how much he really didn't like that movie, and how obnoxious he found (and continues to find) Lindsay Lohan but that's totally beside the point.

But it kind of throws him for a minute, because even when that stupid Jennifer Lewis was calling her a lesbo prude, and even when she got a slushy facial every single day that one week, and even when someone was teasing her about not being able to get anything better than a cripple—even then, she was never this—well, bitchy, quite frankly.

"I-I-I just—I miss you, Tina."

And then she crumbles, which is even _more_ alarming, because Artie has seen Tina cry, but she's generally a very stable person, and has never really had extreme mood swings and he briefly wonders if he's mistaken Rachel for Tina, despite the impossibility.

But then she sighs and kind of makes this _noise_ and he knows it's Tina, because Rachel doesn't cry in public. She almost-cries in public, and makes a huge show of repressing her tears, but she never cries in public, unless she's crying on demand, because Rachel is a freak.

And then they talk—for a long time, in the Science hallway, Tina on the floor, her legs crossed kind of awkwardly at the ankle, because she's wearing a Rachel skirt, and Artie in his chair, kind of awkwardly looking down at Tina, and trying really, really hard not to stare at the hem of the skirt, because it's a _Rachel skirt_ and he's a _sixteen year old boy_.

"Look, Tina," Artie says finally. "You're my best friend and the best faux stutterer I know and I just—I can't _be_ without you. My music won't work when you're not with me. And I don't care if you need space or time or whatever—I don't really care if you don't want to date me, but hell, Tina C, I'm only completely me when I'm with you, and I kinda need to be me, because, well. I just do. Everyone else is kinda… taken."

Tina grins and giggles through her tears and Artie knows he has his best friend back.

* * *

If you could be anyone for a day, who would you be?


	9. Chapter 9

AN: We would be Tinas, astronauts, Kevin McHales, and several other wonderful things.

I'd be Jenna Ushkowitz or Kevin McHale. So that I could ogle Kevin McHale. (Oh, and McHalowitz? Made of WIN.)

This was going to be the last chapter. It isn't. There are three more chapters left. Chapter 10 will be up Thursday or Friday.

* * *

Summer vacation feels like it takes forever to get here, and he's really not going to miss high school for two and a half months, but he might miss Glee club.

Rachel will not _shut up_ about some camp she's going to this summer, and Artie will definitely not miss her.

When Rachel, in classic Rachel fashion, tells him they should start a Handicapable Students Association, he decides he's not going to miss the Broadway Bitch in the slightest. Puck and Santana have taken to calling her the Broadway Bitch; it was the Broadway Broad, and then the Broadway Nazi, but they like Broadway Bitch better. Artie thinks it's funny that _Santana_ is calling Rachel a bitch, because, come on. If Rachel is a bitch, Santana is like SuperBitch times three million. Because it's Santana, and she has no soul.

And, anyway, Artie doesn't want to be part of a Handicapable Students Association. For one, he _hates_ the word "handicapable," because it's _lame_, and for another, Rachel would try to join, which would just be awkward. Not that she's not handicapped, because, as Kurt put it one day, her outfits imply that she failed kindergarten, because she's completely incapable of matching colors and patterns. And failing kindergarten should automatically demote you to handicap status. Because, really. It's _kindergarten_.

Later, at lunch, he tells Tina and Kurt and Mercedes about the Handicapable Students Association, and Kurt blinks at him.

"She does realize she's only alienating herself from the few friendish people she's been able to find to actually put up with her, right?"

Artie shrugs and takes a bite of his sandwich. "I don't know. I swear, something's wrong with her."

"I'm telling you," Kurt says, lining his lunch up neatly, reminding Artie a little bit of Miss Pillsbury, which is kind of uncomfortable. "She failed kindergarten. Learning how to make and keep friends is the first lesson after matching colors and patterns."

"Maybe sh-she was s-s-s-sick that day?" Tina offers and everyone at the table contemplates it thoughtfully, before remembering that Rachel hasn't missed a day of school since they've known her.

Unfortunately.

In Rachel's own words "failing to show up to academic engagements is a serious problem. It shows that I don't care about my work and that can be—"

Artie can't remember the rest, because he stopped listening after Rachel called school an "academic engagement."

The general consensus is that Rachel simply failed kindergarten, and that's that.

"Why d-d-do you h-h-hate that w-w-word so much?" Tina asks him as they walk to class later.

Artie looks up at her questioningly.

"H-H-Handicapable. You get this r-r-really weird look o-on your f-f-face every t-t-t-time someone m-m-mentions it."

Artie smiles. "I can't believe you noticed that," he says, and Tina blushes.

"I w-w-was watching you. Y-Y-You're kinda… c-c-c-c-cute. Answer the question."

Artie looks up at Tina. "You think I'm cute?"

Tina blushes harder. "Y-Yes. Answer th-the question. Please."

Artie sighs. "I guess it's just because it feels like it's saying I…can't really do anything without help."

Tina looks at him strangely.

"I know, that's exactly what it's fighting against, but before that started being all 'in' or whatever, I could just be handicapped and it didn't really _define_ me, it was just something I was, like a musician, or a brunette. Or, like, a member of Glee club. But now, I'm _handicapable_—that word takes away everything else I am—someone interviewing me for a job isn't going to see that I'm a good PR person, or that I have good computer skills. The only word they're going to see is "handicapable" and I'm going to get the job because they're scared of offending me, not because I'm the best candidate. I don't want pity, Tina, I just—want to be normal."

Tina doesn't say anything until they're at the door to his next class. Before she walks down the hall to math, she turns around and smiles at him.

"You kn-know, Artie, I-I've always s-s-seen you as the m-most normal person I-I know." Then she turns around and walks away quickly, her cheeks burning.

After class, they're going to his house for a jam session and he turns to her in the car.

"What did you mean, earlier?" he asks. "About me being normal?"

Tina shrugs. "I-I-I just mean… well, R-Rachel's not n-n-normal, she's p-p-pretty well batshit, and Qu-Quinn's pregnant and-and Finn's an i-idiot and just—o-out of everyone i-i-in Glee, y-y-you're the only really…n-normal high school. I-I mean, you're i-in a wheelchair, b-but nobody really n-notices it after awhile, a-and other than that… y-y-you're very normal, A-Artie. R-Really."

He'd never thought of it that way before, but maybe she had a point. Maybe, when it came to 'normal,' he was the closest thing Glee would ever come to it.

* * *

Are you normal?


	10. Chapter 10

AN: None of us are normal; normal is overrated. I love you all.

I am not normal, and one of my friends delights in telling me this constantly. Of course, he's not normal, either, so…

This is for _Miss Maggie, _who is generally just amazing and posted a chapter for me, because my day was made of fail. I luff you.

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.

* * *

_Rachel_ calls him at three in the morning, and Artie wonders why the _hell_ they didn't lock her in Kurt's basement when they had the chance.

He seriously contemplates not answering, because, come on. It's _Rachel_ and Rachel at three in the morning is kind of suicidal. _Really_ suicidal, because three in the morning is bad enough.

But then he's _curious_, because Rachel is calling him at three in the morning, so he answers and this is what he hears.

"Quinn-is-having-her-baby-I-am-supposed-to-call-everyone-in-glee-and-you-are-in-glee-you-should-come-see-her-in-the-morning-and-ow-Finn-that's-my-hand-and-sorry-for-calling-you-so-early-it-was-an-emergency-and-I'll-call-you-later-today-or-whenever-she-has-it-sorry-Finn-her-because-sometimes-labor-can-last-more-than-24-hours-especially-with-teenage-girls-and-no-Finn-I'm-not-done-okay-bye-see-you-tomorrow-or-whenever."

He wonders who gave her caffeine, and blames Finn, before setting his phone down and going back to bed—before abruptly sitting back up when he realizes what Rachel just said.

_Quinn_ was having the _baby. _Puck's baby, that was formerly known as Finn's. _The_ baby. As in Babygate. The Baby of Babygate.

His next course of action is to text Tina, but she's beat him to it, and his phone chirps insistently with _omg bbg8 is happening!!_

She calls him a few minutes later and Artie finds it ridiculously hard to concentrate on the conversation, because Tina's voice is gritty and soft, and he can kind of picture her, with her hair a mess around her face, and her eyes puffy from sleep. He has a really difficult time concentrating until Tina breaks into his thoughts with "Artie! Puck and Quinn are going to be _parents_."

It's a strange thing to think about, Puck and Quinn being _parents_, because Artie certainly can't imagine being a _father_ at 16, but then his thoughts wander off into Tina-land, and the next thing out of his mouth isn't anything to do with Puck or Quinn or Babygate—it's "you didn't stutter."

It shocks Tina into silence for a minute and then she laughs . "Is that all you can think about? I mean, two of our classmates are about to become _parents_, Artie, and all you can think about is the fact that I didn't change my speech patterns at three in the morning?"

Artie wants to say a lot of things in response, most of them kind of ridiculously gooey and fluffy and romantic in a really disgusting way, but instead he smiles and says "Sorry. It's three in the morning. My thoughts are kind of...scattered."

(Later, he kind of wishes he'd have said some of the gooey romantic stuff, because, well, he's kind of in love with this girl.)

Tina muses over their classmates being _parents_ for awhile and then says "love you" into the phone shyly and he says it back.

He's still grinning when he wakes up in the morning.

* * *

Has anyone ever called and/or texted you at three in the morning?


	11. Chapter 11

AN: All of us have been called or texted at least once at ridiculous hours. I feel sorry for us.

I have been called once and texted… too many times to count. The people who text me and wake me up usually regret it.

This, also, was going to be the last chapter, but the next chapter… will be short, and kind of epilogueish and will probably be posted on Tuesday.

_Miss Maggie _and I were update twins this time! We also have the same birthday, which is amazing!!

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.

* * *

Summer vacation arrives suddenly, it sneaks up on them somehow, for all that they've been waiting for it since August.

But Artie and Tina have finals the last week of May and then they are _free_ and it's kind of terrifying, in its own way, because they have _three whole months_ to just be. It has the potential to make them or break them and that's just kind of scary.

On the last day of school, they go over to Kurt's house to see Quinn, who is staying with the Hummels for the time being, and the baby.

It's not the first time they've seen the baby, but it's the first time she's been awake, really awake, and she kind of unsettles Artie, with her wide eyes and her baby-like noises and how _small_ she is. Quinn asks if he wants to hold her, and no he does not, because, well, he just doesn't, but Tina spends a good hour and a half cooing over her while Artie and Puck stand kind of awkwardly off to the side.

Artie wonders if maybe he's supposed to say something like "good job" to Puck, but he's not sure how that would go over, because, well, that's kind of awkward—I mean, what would that be saying—good job on knocking up your best friend's girl? Good job on what?

Maybe he should say "congratulations," but that doesn't make sense, either, because what would he be congratulating him on? On a 'job well done'? That's—even awkwarder.

So the silence stretches out in front of him _awkwardly_ and Artie waits patiently for Tina to finish—whatever she's doing with Quinn.

Quinn seems to appreciate it, so whatever.

Thinking about Quinn and Puck as parents is strange—Tina had a point at three in the morning a few months ago.

Pretty Quinn, with her blonde hair and her perfect smile, rocking a baby—it seems wrong, and maybe it's only because, until Sue kicked her off the Cheerios, Artie associated her with Them, and not with Us, because she was always the one who laughed when he got slushie facialed. And Jocks aren't supposed to have babies in high school—it doesn't make sense, doesn't mesh with the other Quinn he knew—this Quinn is softer around the edges, easier, somehow more grown up and painfully young at the same time. The two images don't fit together, and it just doesn't seem possible that it's _Quinn_ sitting in front of him, talking with his girlfriend about the baby, while he sits next to the father, a kid his own age.

It doesn't seem possible, or even right, that there is someone _his age_ who is a _father_, who is responsible for another life, for a little person.

It's strange, watching Tina coo over the baby and thinking about her being the same age as someone who's a mother. Artie can't imagine it, and he's not sure what to say to Puck, so he lets the silence stretch out awkwardly until Tina is ready to leave.

On their way home, Tina says something about it being strange that Quinn and Puck are parents, that they're kind of grown up now, in a way. Artie smiles up at his best friend.

"Yeah. Yeah, it is strange. I wonder…" he thinks a moment, the summer heat seeping into his khaki slacks as he wheels along the pavement. "I wonder if Puck'll still slushie facial people, when we go back in August."

Tina laughs out into the summer sunshine, and Artie grins.

* * *

What's your favorite baby name?


	12. Chapter 12

AN: We like old-fashioned names, and names that are unique.

I like Charlotte, for a girl, and my surname for a boy, since I will be taking my husband's name when we get married.

* * *

July is unbearably hot, and Tina and Artie spend it mostly at each other's houses, with the air conditioner turned on full blast. There are a few jam sessions, a few make-out sessions, but mostly they spend it still, trying to escape the humid Midwestern heat.

It's almost a relief when their junior year starts up, because routine is never a bad thing.

Artie is sitting in his Government class one day, next to Tina, and she writes him a note—it's sweet and silly in love and wonderful and in ALL CAPS and Artie grins as he reads it, because he's hard in love with this beautiful girl.

She stopped stuttering over the summer—it faded slowly, drifting away from her words like the last vestiges of summer drift away from the fall.

Artie is okay with this—more than okay with it. It feels clean and fresh, like there are no more secrets between them and like the last of the dark cloud of that disastrous first date has finally dissipated.

It doesn't feel different; high school is still very much high school. There are still slushie facials, because even though Puck and Finn and Matt and Mike and Santana and Brittany—even though all of them are part of Glee, part of the beauty (or maybe it's the tragedy) of being in a high school club that, admittedly, is still kind of a the bottom of the food chain is that there are still places they belong.

Despite that Puck and Quinn are now parents, and Finn is the tragic hero, the ex-boyfriend, and Rachel is the star—despite that Artie and Tina are now Artie-and-Tina, and despite that all of them are one year older—it's still high school.

Still slushie facials and drama and Glee club and there are days that are bad, and days that are good, and sometimes it feels like they'll never get out of here. Things aren't different. They're just a little more bearable now.

* * *

The love I have received for this fic blows me away. To everyone who has reviewed, alerted, or favorited this fic—you all are beautiful, wonderful people and I am so honored to have had a little bit of your time. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for reading this. If you're still here… I love you.

I am working on another Tartie, if you're interested, but it'll be a bit before it's posted. To tide you over, the amazing _Miss Maggie _and I have collab'd on a couple of oneshots that will be posted on our joint account (in my favs) shortly. You can also read some of _Miss Maggie_'s Glee-tastic work. Her Artie/Tina work makes me ridiculously happy.

Thank you, again, from the bottom of my heart. You all complete me.

If there were a sequel of sorts to Going for Broke, would you read it?


End file.
